Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Dante
Three weeks later
The Plaza ballroom glitters like old money and new power combined, all crystal chandeliers and designer gowns, men in tuxedos who control half the East Coast between handshakes and bourbon. This is my world—the one I rebuilt from the ashes of my father's scandal.
And tonight, I'm rewriting the rules.
Bianca stands beside me in, her hair swept up with the gold cross at her throat catching the light. She's been quieter since Elena's funeral almost three weeks ago, hollow in a way that makes my chest ache. But tonight, she showed up, put on the dress, stood beside me.
That's enough.
"Dante." Matteo appears at my elbow with Alessia on his arm. "Hell of a turnout."
"Everyone loves a charity gala," I say, scanning the room. "Especially when they can write it off."
Alessia rolls her eyes. "You're such a cynic."
"I'm realistic." I gesture to the crowd. "Half these people wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire. But they'll donate tonight because not donating would look worse."
"And you'll take their money anyway," Matteo says with approval.
"Every cent."
Rafe and Luca join us with drinks in hand, Enzo trailing behind looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Before anyone can say more, the event coordinator signals me. Time for the speech.
I give Bianca a kiss on the forehead and leave her with Alessia and head to the stage. The microphone is already live and the crowd quiets as I step up.
"Thank you all for coming tonight." My voice carries through the ballroom. "I know your time is valuable, so I'll keep this brief."
Polite laughter ripples through the crowd.
"We're here to launch The Elena Fund—a foundation dedicated to supporting families dealing with cancer. Specifically, the hidden costs, the treatments insurance won't cover, the gaps that force impossible choices."
I pause, let that sink in.
"My mother died when I was twenty-three.
Not from cancer, but from shame and circumstance, from the weight of decisions no one should have to make alone.
" I find Bianca in the crowd and her eyes are glistening.
"I've learned since then that many families face similar impossible choices, that women especially, make sacrifices no one ever sees. Sacrifices that cost them everything."
The room is silent now, attentive.
"The Elena Fund exists to honor those sacrifices, to make sure no family has to choose between dignity and survival. Every dollar raised tonight goes directly to covering cancer treatment costs for families who can't afford them."
I let that land.
"Because some debts can't be repaid. But they can be honored."
Applause erupts, loud and genuine.
I step off the stage and head straight for Bianca. She's crying now, not bothering to hide it.
"You—" Her voice breaks. "You turned it into something good."
"I turned your pain into purpose," I correct. "There's a difference."
"Dante—"
"It's not charity." I brush away her tears. "It's loyalty. You gave me something real—something I didn't think I deserved. So I'm going to honor it. Forever."
She kisses me right there, in front of everyone, soft and desperate and full of things we don't say out loud.
When we break apart, the room has noticed and whispers ripple through the crowd.
Let them talk.
I'm done hiding what she means to me.
An hour later, I find Giulio near the bar.
He's been watching me all night, scowling every time someone congratulates me on the foundation, every time they shake my hand and call me a man of vision.
"Dante." He sets down his glass. "We need to talk."
"No, we really don't."
"This foundation—it's a mistake. You're drawing attention to—"
"To what?" I step closer. "To the fact that I care about something other than power? To the possibility that I'm capable of compassion?"
"To weakness." His voice drops. "You're making yourself vulnerable, exposing soft spots enemies can exploit."
"Then let them try."
"You're being reckless—"
"I'm being honest." I lean in. "Something you've never been capable of. You destroyed our family with your corruption, drove Mom to drink herself to death. And now you want to lecture me about vulnerability?"
His face goes red. "I did what I had to—"
"You did what benefited you. And when it blew up, you let everyone else pay the price." I straighten my jacket. "I'm done paying for your mistakes, done letting you dictate my choices, done pretending you're anything other than a cautionary tale."
"Dante—"
"We're finished. You and me." I turn to walk away, pause. "Don't call. Don't show up at my house. Don't contact Bianca. You're not family anymore. I don’t want anything to do with you."
I leave him standing there and don't look back.
Later, in Matteo's private suite upstairs, the Brotherhood gathers.
"You really cut him off," Luca says. "Completely."
"Yes."
"About damn time," Rafe mutters.
Matteo pours drinks—water for me, bourbon for everyone else. "So. The scandal."
Here it comes.
"Caterina's finished," he continues. "Massimo sent her to their estate in Sicily indefinitely. The article she released? It was live for less than an hour before we buried it. Most people never saw it."
I blink. "An hour?"
"Luca's good at his job." Matteo grins. "Between legal threats and financial pressure, we got it pulled fast. A few gossip sites picked it up, but we killed those too. The story never gained traction."
"How many people saw it?" My voice is careful.
"Maybe a few thousand, most of them our world—people who already knew not to talk.
" He sips his bourbon. "After the grand scandal with Caterina kidnapping your woman and you killing Adrian in front of witnesses?
No one cares about old escort records. They're too busy wondering if they're next on your shit list."
Relief crashes through me. "So Bianca's safe."
"Your woman's safe, your reputation's intact, and you've got a foundation that makes you look like a goddamn saint." Matteo raises his glass. "Congratulations. You won."
"We won," I correct.
"Same thing, brother."
I find Bianca on the balcony overlooking Central Park. She's leaning against the railing with the city spread out below her like a promise, the emerald dress catching the moonlight.
"You okay?" I ask.
"I don't know." She doesn't turn around. "Everything's different now. Mom's gone. Adrian's dead. Caterina's exiled. The article's buried. It's like... it's over."
"It is over."
"So what happens now?"
"Now?" I move behind her, wrap my arms around her waist. "Now we live. We build something real. We stop running from the past and start creating a future."
"With The Elena Fund."
"With whatever you want." I rest my chin on her shoulder. "I meant what I said in that speech. You gave me something real. Something I'll honor forever."
She turns in my arms, looks up at me. "I love you."
"I know."
"Say it back, you impossible man."
I smile—the real one, the one only she gets. "I love you. More than anything. More than this world I've built, more than my reputation, more than my own life."
"Don't be dramatic."
"I'm not." I pull the from my pocket—the one that saved her life. "I'm being honest. Marry me. For real this time. Not for show, not for strategy. Just... be mine, Bianca. Forever."
Tears spill down her cheeks. "Yes."
This time I slide the ring onto her finger and it fits perfectly, like it was always meant to be there.
"Now what?" she whispers.
"Now we go home." I kiss her forehead. "And we start living."
Because that's what love is—not the grand gestures or the dramatic rescues, but choosing someone every day, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard.
And I'll choose Bianca Mancini every damn day for the rest of my life.